Barely Getting By
by LunaB1134
Summary: They haven't seen each other in four years. Not since Harry died. Business parties, missing persons, and strange new discoveries are they enough to cause Ron and Hermione to meet again?
1. Chapter 1

Barely Getting By

Chapter 1: Breaking Down

A Post-Hogwarts Fic

Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling. I just hide in her world and write random things.

If you passed by someone in the corridors of the Ministry of Magic, you probably wouldn't give them a second glance. Unless they were one of your comrades or someone of particular fame and fortune, you would see them as ordinary people, going about their ordinary jobs, in a rather successful type of normality.

But the people who roam these halls have untold stories, stories of friendships broken, hidden horrors, and lives lost. You might not see it in their face, but a small slip of emotion every so often, a longing glace at a photo will show who they once were, and who they believe they will never be again. A face can show everything, or nothing at all.

The people here are oblivious to what and who hides behind those battered doors and the peeling paint. Sometimes, though, the people you care about most will be upstairs, or right around the corner, and you won't know it at all.

The Ministry library was cold and dank, its only insulation given by the stacks and shelves of books carpeting the walls, floors, and the many tables scattered all over the room. A woman sat at one of these desks, surrounded by volumes on volumes of Ministry records, encyclopedias, written agreements, and books in general. She sat scribbling on a piece of parchment that was nearly all written on, only pausing to flip a page in a book or dip her sturdy quill into her ink bottle. Her hair was brown, bushy, and messy, slipping out of an untidy bun and falling over the parchment. Her face had a world-weary look upon it, and her brown eyes showed no sign of happiness or satisfaction, just a dulled, hard, look.

"Hermione?" A woman with dirty blonde hair walked into the room, her sea-green eyes filled with worry. "The library is about to close, we'd better get going…"

"What?" said Hermione, startled. "What did you say, Hannah?"

Hannah Abbott sighed as she repeated her words. "The library's closing early today, the Improper Use of Magic office is having another bloody meeting, and they want the head librarian there. Anyways, Hermione, you should be happy, we finally get a day off!"

Hermione gave her a very weak grin. "But…what about Rose Galowe?"

Hannah grimaced. For the past month, half of the Department of Tracking Magical Beings had been searching for Rose, the daughter of Ambrose Galowe, a vicious Death Eater. Hermione had entered into the search with a vengeance, as she did with all tasks, but she had begun to get obsessive...

"Penelope will take care of it, come on!"

"But I'm the one who's supposed to do the main shift right now!"

"The Department knows you've been working overtime every night, you can give it a rest."

Hermione's aggravation began to build up. "But there's too many people who need help, Hannah. I have to find her."

"You're taking too much on yourself, Hermione!"

"Honestly, Hannah, I can handle this. Just let me stay."

"Hermione, trust me, you need a break," said Hannah wearily, knowing what would come next.

"I – I can't!", said Hermione, looking horrified. "I can't just forget about her, what would you do? Leave a child standing there? She could be starving! Or mistreated! Standing in the streets with nowhere to go! Like Harry!" Suddenly, Hermione stopped short, her eyes gleaming.

"It's been four years, Hermione," whispered Hannah, not wanting to upset her. Then again, she did need to let it all out to someone.

"I know…" Hermione gulped, then started crying, the tears running down her pale cheeks as she took gasping breaths. Hannah reached out and hugged her, like she always did. Hermione had never gotten over what had happened in what was supposed to be their seventh year. When the second war ended, it had taken lives from the innocent, left its painful memories to the fighters. The Ministry had barely been equipped to handle with the destruction and chaos afterward, what with Dumbledore dead and still having Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister.

Not to mention Harry Potter.

Hannah's train of thought was interrupted when Hermione's shudders subsided and she slowly lifted her head.

"It's so hard," she said in a small voice.

"I know," said Hannah. She herself had lost Ernie MacMillan, soon after their engagement. She started to feel the tears come into her eyes, but quickly blinked them away. "Look, why don't you come with Luna and I to the Three Broomsticks? We're Flooing on the quarter past, it won't take that long. Besides, we could all use a pick-me-up."

"No, thanks," said Hermione, declining. "I'll just go home. I have to- have to research something for the case." Finishing, she quickly darted out the library door, carrying more books than she could handle, as usual.

Hannah sighed. _There's no point in trying to stop her…_

Gathering all of her many belongings, Hermione slung her book bag over her shoulder and hustled out the door of the Tracking offices, desperately needing a cup of tea. The teardrops were yet again gathering in her eyes, and she hurried to reach the Floo before she completely lost control. The large, rickety elevator finally reached the ground floor, and she hastily took a pinch of green powder, and shouted, "224 Equister Lane, London!" Stepping into the fire, she felt the warm breath of the emerald flames.

After bumping around uncomfortably for a few minutes, Hermione fell awkwardly out of the fireplace into her flat. Her books and quills spilled out of her stuffed bag, littering the floor.

"Great," muttered Hermione. She decided to ignore the mess and set the kettle to boil. Collapsing onto her smallish, overstuffed couch, Hermione surveyed her flat. It was located in a respectable neighborhood, just near Diagon Alley. The bedroom was tidy, along with the tiny living room and kitchen. Her office, however, was chock-full of books, quills, and ink, papers overflowing out of cabinets and carpeting the floor. A complete opposite of the rest of her life, which was filed into tidy divisions.

Crookshanks came and rubbed against Hermione's knee. She picked him up and set him in her lap, gently stroking him. Her eyes wandered unwillingly to the photographs on the table next to her. One was a newspaper clipping, depicting a large, smiling family, standing in front of some pyramids and waving energetically. The second was of three people, one tall, gangly and red-haired, one raven-haired with round glasses, and the last with bushy, brown hair, and a book under one arm. The trio was smiling happily, the red-haired one with his arms around the other two. The last was of the same brown and red haired boy and girl, the boy's hand just brushing the girls'. Both were laughing, without a care in the world, apparently. The Weasleys. Harry. Ron.

Hermione felt the sadness washing over her: the memories were too much for her to bear. After searching for months, the three had destroyed Nagini, the final Horcrux. Confronting Voldemort had not been so lucky. That was the night that Harry had-

Well, died wasn't the best word for it. Disappeared, more like. Voldemort had fallen, but during the process, Harry had vanished, leaving behind only his wand. After six months, the Ministry had no choice but to proclaim him Missing In Action. But Hermione knew what those cruel, unfeeling words really meant. Harry was gone.

This resulted in a total breakdown of Hermione's life. She totally lost contact with Ron, and most of the Weasley family. She had only seen them once after Harry had died, at his service. They were all in a sad, melancholy state. Bill and Charlie were there, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the family. Mrs. Weasley had been sobbing softly. Fred and George were not their old, joking selves; rather, they sat around in a state of relative shock. Ginny had barely spoken a word, but her anguish had been clearly expressed. Ron- well, Ron was changed. His eyes did not contain any sign of happiness, his posture drooped- even his hair seemed depressed. They hadn't said anything to each other throughout the gathering-words weren't needed. Hermione had left abruptly and sharply at the end of the funeral, vowing to carry on with her life as if nothing had ever happened.

How miserably she had failed at that. She thought of Harry and Ron every day. They invaded her dreams, her job- the slightest things would bring back remembrances. Her job at the Ministry was her major occupation. She concentrated wholeheartedly on every case thrown at her, from Death Eaters to small children.

Not that the Ministry was doing anything worthwhile. Rufus Scrimgeour truly hadn't cared whether Harry had lived or died. He barely sent anyone to find him when he disappeared. Employees at the Ministry were desperately trying to rebuild homes, communities, lives, track down missing people- but the Death Eaters were a stronger force than the British wizarding government, wreaking havoc wherever they went. When Voldemort had been vanquished, they went on, powerful as ever. The Order was forced to do most of the work for the Ministry.

But nothing in her life could distract Hermione from her best friends. She had no idea where Ron worked, or where he was now, and the sense of loss for two of her best friends was practically unbearable. And these confused feelings she felt about him- you'd think at twenty-one she would have figured out what was wrong with her. Because with Ron, she had never known what to expect, what he would do if he saw her again. If he did…

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the shrill whistling of the tea kettle. She got up and silenced its cries with a swish of her wand. Sitting down at her messy desk, Hermione slowly got to work, every so often glancing at the pictures she had brought in from the living room.

Minutes later, she had fallen asleep at the table, her dreams full of tealeaves and red hair.

A/N: First chaptered fic yay! I hope you guys review and tell me how I can improve. I am TOTALLY open to all your opinions and ways you think I can improve, since I don't have a beta. Just please don't flame, unless you are trying to improve my story. Don't worry, it won't stay too morbid, I couldn't write it if it did. Hope you keep reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Match

Disclaimer: I had some biscuits today.

…

DID JKR HAVE BISCUITS TODAY?

I think not.

Thus I am not Jo, and I do not own anything. Oh, except Elizabeth Tibbs and Patrick Adair.

A/N; I got seventeen reviews from you guys when I wrote this, so I just HAD TO FINISH IT. This should give you an idea about what makes me want to write winkwink.

Elizabeth Tibbs was not the sort of person you could confide in. She was a nice enough woman in appearance, round-faced and slim-figured. Her black curls would bob energetically and she would utter encouragements in a sugary voice as you entrusted your secrets to her, but then immediately afterwards she would rush over to the water cooler and blab every single detail. Usually Elizabeth added a few embellishments in order to up the juiciness of the tale. All this was why Hermione was receiving some very bad omens after Elizabeth picked her way across the mounds of books to reach Hermione's desk that morning.

"Hello, Hermione dear," she said in a sing-song tone, seating herself on a stack of volumes illustrating the migration patterns of sheep. Hermione didn't respond, merely nodded. You could never be too careful around her.

"How've things been?" Elizabeth asked again, after a few awkward moments.

"All right," Hermione mumbled, hunched over her quill. Elizabeth peered over her shoulder, trying to glimpse the parchment, unsuccessfully. Finally, she went straight for the catch.

"Hermione," she cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice. "I hear you've been having some- _personal_ problems."

_Oh, God_, Hermione thought. _Why does she have to talk to me about this? Can't she just lay off it?_

"Haven't been getting out much lately…" Hermione trailed off.

"I saw you in the library yesterday," Elizabeth whispered pityingly. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Her eyes gleamed with false trustworthiness. Hermione was at a loss as for what to say to this woman.

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to speak some carefully chosen words, Luna Lovegood looked up from the map she had been marking up and remarked casually, "You know, the population of Succubus Rays has decreased rapidly since last November. Would you like to donate a Galleon to the cause?"

Elizabeth shifted her gaze to Luna after lingering on Hermione. "No thank you, dear," she chirped indulgently, then hurried away, after smiling and saying, "See you around!" to Hermione. Hermione grinned at Luna, who merely adjusted her knee-high blue and red-striped socks and kept working. Hermione had been surprised to see Luna working at the Ministry, but she was just as reliable as any other employee, though apparently she appeared not as sane as she actually was.

Hermione bent back over her parchment, attempting to concentrate. The sheet read:

**Rose Galowe**

**Birthday: April 13th, 1995**

**Age: 6**

**Mother: Druella Bulstrode, deceased**

**Father: Ambrose Galowe, Death Eater**

**Description: Fair hair, gray eyes, no known traces of magical power as of 1999. Only child.**

**Whereabouts:---**

"She has to be somewhere," Hermione mused. "If only I could leave this stuffy office and actually look for her…" She resignedly flipped the page over and started on the next.

Three hours and quite a few quill nibs later, she had still made very little progress, and Hermione left Luna, who was munching a bag of crisps to fetch a sandwich from the small café in the building. Hermione had barely stepped over the threshold, when she was accosted by none other than Elizabeth. She quickly pushed Hermione into a corner and began what Hermione would have called an interrogation, but what Elizabeth tried to pass off as breezy conversation.

"Hermione! How pleasant to see you again," she started, as if she hadn't just trapped Hermione in a prison of politeness. "Let's see- you're about twenty one, right?"

Hermione folded her arms protectively. "Yes…"

"Oh, oh good. " Elizabeth seemed to store this information in the back of her mind. 'You enjoy historical literature also, eh?"

"What is this for?" Hermione shot at her, feeling rather cross, but Elizabeth was relentless, popping out questions by the dozen.

"Do you like the Weird Sisters? Are you a smoker? Do you agree with the Ministry's decision to regulate werewolf activity? How do you like your eggs? " And so on, the queries becoming more and more obscure.

"Miss Tibbs," Hermione ejaculated after what seemed like an eternity in a stunning imitation of her former Prefect voice, " I do not appreciate this sort of nosy behavior!" She was almost certain that steam was pouring out of her ears.

Elizabeth gave a small, hopeless sigh, and patted Hermione's shoulder in a consoling fashion. "Stay here," she whispered conspiratorially and dashed off.

Hermione flicked her wand wearily and fell for the second time in twenty four hours onto the previously conjured chair. Couldn't everyone just leave her alone? Perhaps she would travel to the coffee shop later. A good caffeine rush was just what she needed.

Why had Elizabeth asked so many odd questions? Dreadfully personal, they were. Especially the one about the mangoes. Hermione shuddered. The only person that would ever ask those kind of personal questions, other than Elizabeth, was-

Hermione jolted upwards with a start.

A dating service.

Vague and frightening memories of large, pink pamphlets being pushed at her by Elizabeth had been newly uncovered. Elizabeth had been trying to set her up for ages; trying being the key word. Hermione had always been much too wary to let anyone else into her life. And the few times that she had weren't pretty. (For example, she had learned not to date anyone whose idea of a fun time is to exchange opinions on carpet tiles. Or anybody who wears excessive leather. Also, men who are obsessive over bands, like the Dragonettes, can be stalkers.) Well, maybe it was more than a few. But Hermione still felt that she had been under severe emotional stress each time, which was most likely why she had agreed to see this stupid man, whoever he was. She just hoped it was someone acceptable who she wouldn't feel too bad about breaking up with.

Hermione heard footsteps. She arose from the chair and swiftly vanished it, perhaps leaving a stray thread from her anxiety.

Two shadows grew from around the corner. Hermione took a deep breath and assumed a false smile.

Which was immediately replaced by an expression of complete awe and amazement, because this man was definitely up to and over snuff.

"Hermione," Elizabeth squealed, "this is Patrick Adair. He's only four doors down from us, isn't that a_maz_ing? Honestly, it's like you two were made for each other!" Elizabeth gazed adoringly at Patrick, who blushed under the compliments.

"Really, I'm a bit new around here, so it isn't all that surprising we haven't met-" he glanced at Hermione and grinned. "Hello, Hermione," he murmured in a demure tenor.

Hermione was completely in awe. Perhaps it was the blonde hair that draped shyly over his glasses, or the soft tone his voice took. Maybe it was even the way that he had stuck his quill not hurriedly behind his ear, but methodically into his shirt pocket. Hermione sensed that they could actually have a chance.

It was only then that she noticed that Patrick was politely waving his hand in order for her to reach out and shake it, and she was twisting a lock of stray hair nervously around her index finger, and her mouth was most likely wide open. She jolted herself into attention, and took his hand in what she hoped was a charming manner.

"Hello," Hermione mumbled, feeling a bit heady and dimly aware that her voice was much higher than usual. "I'm Hermione Granger." _Idiot!_, her brain was shrieking. _He'll know your name! Tell him something about yourself! Engage him in witty banter!_

"Ah! I've heard so much about you!" he remarked, then smiled. "And not just the things Miss Tibbs has gushed about." Hermione's face reddened, and Elizabeth let out another chirp of satisfaction.

"Why don't you tell Hermione about the little plan you had, Patty?" she proposed with a rather maniacal glint in her eye.

"Ah—well—" here it was Patrick's turn to redden. "I was—well, Elizabeth gave me the idea-" here Elizabeth let out a sniff of retribution "-anyways, you know about the business party? For the Department of Magical Cooperation?" Hermione nodded vigorously, hastily wondering where that memo could have disappeared to. "Well we- _I_," he hurriedly corrected, "was wondering if maybe you'd like to be my partner to it." He waited hesitantly, and Elizabeth was shooting rather insane glances at Hermione, as if nudging her through her wide open eyes.

"Oh-well-yes!" Hermione beamed at Patrick, who seemed to break his shell of expectancy into relief. They grinned like idiots at each other for a bit until Patrick remarked that he had to be going, and strolled off.

"Adair was a catch, wasn't he Hermione?" Elizabeth teased. "Ah, sometimes I wish that I took all the good ones for myself. But you should be the one to be happy!" Elizabeth giggled. "Lighten up a bit, dear. I'm off to see the girls for a bit." She sauntered away, humming "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts".

Hermione felt happier than she had in ages. Yes, Patrick Adair was a catch. Hermione felt that he was also the one who would finally separate her past from her future and make her forget.

A/N: WHEE! I know this is like six months overdue, but it's done! Huzzah! Thanks to my friends, potionsmaster, RowenaTonks (get your story out!), and believeintreesemfl (we are allies against exams!). Also, my beta, Windy who looked this over in record time and sent it right back. And Nephele de Tourmalin, who looked over the first half and told me it wasn't awful. :D Love you all! R&R! Luna

P.S. the sheep book is for Katie and Nika. :D


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